Notes: for an anon, indie porn au, pre-established but non-explicit poly Destiel, all the smut is between Kevin and Dean, bottom Dean, feminization, face fucking, light bondage
-
Dean’s already made it through one movie and gotten another started when he hears the squeaky hinges of the back door to their apartment. He doesn’t blame Cas for being late to the unofficial start time of their regular Friday night movie marathons. The guy gets lost in his head a lot, and once he’s focused on something he doesn’t even notice texts from Dean.
The half eaten meat lovers pizza sitting in an open box on the coffee table has chilled, but there’s plenty of movies and beer left. Dean’s picked out a few DVD’s of his favorite old Westerns and found a couple on Netflix that he hasn’t seen in ages.
Cas shuffles into the living room, shoes removed, weighed down with bags of his camera equipment. He squints at the movie that’s already been started, and the pizza that Dean has finished his own portion of.
“I’m late.” Cas states.
Dean shrugs. “Set your stuff down, I’ll grab a beer for you.”
Nodding, Cas retreats down the hallway to put his equipment away where it belongs. Getting a beer for him amounts to grabbing one out of the green camping cooler sitting next to the couch because Dean’s a genius and this way he doesn’t have to go to the fridge for refills. He pops it open on the side of the scuffed coffee table and sets it next to the pizza box.
Cas has taken his pants off when he comes back and the boxers he’s wearing are plaid, so they’re probably Dean’s.
“You want me to restart the movie?” Dean asks.
“No, thank you,” Cas replies, reaching for his beer and settling onto the old, blue couch. It sags in the middle, and they always slide into the dip until they’re pressed side to side.
Cas prods a piece of cold pizza first, before sighing dramatically and eating it. Too lazy to heat it up in the kitchen, too aware of his own lateness to complain.
Dean nudges him with a foot.
“Hey, there’s mint chocolate chip in the freezer.”
Cas smiles widely and scoots closer to Dean, thighs touching. It’s an easy, warm comfort.
After finishing a few slices, and after Dean’s opened a second beer for him, Cas finds the remote and turns the tv volume down.
“I have a job for you.”
“Oh yeah? Just photos, or video?”
“Both. I found someone new I want you to work with;”
Dean nudges Cas in the side with an elbow. “You still finding young, desperate for money college kids, Cas? Gotta say, the older you get, the creepier that gets.”
“Dean, I found you like that.”
“Mhmm.”
“He’s a consenting, legal adult.”
“Cas, I’m messin’ with you.”
“I know,” Cas mumbles into his beer.
Of course, Cas is only six years older than Dean, which wasn’t much when they were both in their twenties. Now that Cas is pushing forty and Dean’s got at least a solid ten years on most college kids, it’s starting to get a little weird. Dean didn’t think he’d still be doing porn for Cas well into his thirties, but if anything they’ve started making more money as Cas has gotten better selling online through independent creator content sites.
It’s not like it’s the only job that Cas, or Dean has. Dean still works a dead end, part time, job at an electronics and appliances repair store. Not like people take things to get repaired much anymore, but his friends are there and he enjoys it. Porn - or ‘erotica’ as Cas used to insist - is kind of a hobby for him that turned out to make some money, but he has his own photography stuff too, he even takes boring jobs like weddings when the money is tight.
Dean stretches an arm along the back of the couch, rests his hand on Cas’ shoulder.
“So, what’s this guy’s name?”
“Kevin.” Castiel turns to him, one eyebrow raised pointedly. “He’s Asian.”
Dean thinks of the old shoe box full of Busty Asian Beauty mags that’s under their bed. Cas knows how to push his buttons a little too well.
“When do you have in mind?”
“Are you free tomorrow?”
Dean taps a finger against his beer bottle, resting on his thigh. “I’ve got work, but I get off at six.”
“That would be good,” Cas nods.
“Okay. Awesome.”
Cas sets the volume back up on the tv, and it’s on one of Dean’s favorite saloon shoot-out scenes but he finds his attention drifting. It’s been a little while since Cas recruited someone new, and that always gets Dean excitable.
—
When Dean gets home from work on Saturday around six-thirty, there’s a ratty pair of sneakers that aren’t familiar in the kitchen, sitting next to Cas’ polished Oxfords. Dean considers grabbing two beers from the fridge, but he’s not even sure if Kevin is twenty one.
Through the arched doorway, Dean finds the guy sitting on the living room couch reading a thick book, a backpack set on the floor in front of him. His skin is lightly tanned, hair a few inches long and jet black, face round with a bit of stubborn baby fat. He is really cute.
“Hey, I’m Dean.” Hanging around the doorway, Dean gives him space.
Kevin’s head whips up, “Oh! Hi, I’m Kevin. I’m, uh…” Kevin looks over his shoulder, down the hallway to the bedrooms, lowering his voice. “Is this normal? To, you know, in some guy’s apartment? Is that normal?”
“Technically, it’s my apartment too, me and Cas live here.” Dean shrugs. “And I dunno, I’ve only ever worked with Cas. He has a studio set up in one the spare bedrooms.”
Kevin nods, “Okay, sure, but just so you know I told one of my friends what I was doing and I gave them an address and if I don’t check in with them in six hours they’re going to call the police on you.”
“Okay,” Dean nods. “You sure you want to be here, man?”
Kevin blinks, looks Dean up and down, and Dean’s leaning on the doorframe in a slouch with his arms folded over his chest, flannel rolled to the elbows, wearing those dark jeans that hug his thighs. Kevin licks his lower lip, once, and gives a twitchy nod.
“Yeah. It’s good. I know what I’m doing.”
It’s kind of cute how flustered he is, but Dean doesn’t want to scare him by poking at him.
Cas comes down the hallway, his blue tie backwards, feet bare, wearing pressed slacks and a white button down.
“I’m set up, if you’d like to come back I’ll do your makeup and costuming.” A tiny smile pulls the corners of his lips up as Cas sees Dean. “Hello, Dean.”
“Heya Cas, how do you want me?”
Cas appraises him. “Just like that, but, one thing…” Cas wanders to the studio and comes back with a leather harness in hand. “Put that on under your shirt. And shave, please, but leave a little stubble.”
Dean salutes him and takes the harness. “Sure thing boss.”
-
He freshens up and shaves, does an enema and gets the harness on. It takes him a couple of tries to get all the straps and buckles lined up right. Putting his regular clothes back on over top, Dean regards himself in the mirror, fluffs his hair. His dick is perking up already, trained to anticipate a good time.
The studio door is open, so Dean goes in. He can hear Kevin and Cas talking behind the room divider.
The right side of the room opens to east facing windows, where Cas as a habit of shooting Dean in the mornings. He has all sorts of props and draperies that he dresses the place up with. Today, there’s a few swathes of pale pink fabric hanging in front of the windows and along the walls, maybe blankets or curtains, Cas has a knack for finding cheap things at second hand stores and garage sales. The floor is covered in a white sheet, an excessive amount of similarly pastel pillows strewn around. It’s all soft and sweet looking and simple.
Cameras sit stationary on tripods at several points, lights set up, a few microphones set up with their wires taped to the floor. Cas will move around with his hand camera to take stills, and occasionally moves or adjusts the other cameras mid-shoot.
Behind the divider to the left of the room are clothes racks, dressers, shelves of shoes and props, as well as a makeup desk. Dean putzes around the room quietly landscaping mounds out of pillows, overhearing Kevin chatting with Cas.
“This is kind of a lot of makeup, I mean it’s really well done, but is it going to smudge? Should I worry about that? Are we supposed to kiss? What about blowjobs?”
“The makeup will smear,” Cas says, “That’s fine, that’s the effect that I want. You can kiss, if you’d like to.”
“Okay, I mean, I don’t really know what you’re going for, and it’s not like I’m a virgin but I haven’t really been with a lot of guys, and Dean is really hot, but how big is he because I’m kind of nervous about that?”
“I was thinking that you could fuck Dean.”
“Wait, seriously?”
“Yes.”
Rolling his eyes, Dean nudges a few pillows around, makes a nice mound out of them.
“But, you’ve got me dressed up like the girl?” Kevin sounds confused.
Dean rounds the divider, lets himself be seen.
“There are no boy and girl parts,” is all that Cas says.
Kevin’s back is turned to Dean, but the reflection of his face is lit up brightly in the mirror. He’s all made up with white face paint, red lips, plum purple eye color that sparkles. It’s like the worst sort of western fetishization of Asian culture that’s common in the kind of porn Dean watches and it’s hot. A silk robe - probably not real silk, but it looks nice - drapes over Kevin’s shoulder, a pale purple color with pink flowers patterned on it. He’s fidgeting with the sash when he catches Dean’s face in the mirror and turns around.
Cas makes a hand-wavey gesture and Dean steps forward. His face is grabbed and Cas comes at him with eyeliner.
“Just a little for you,” Cas murmurs. As he works, he talks to Kevin. “You can say no to anything, I want you to know that. And if you want to walk out, I will still pay you half, as we’ve agreed. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything.”
“Yeah, of course,” Kevin watches them, head bobbing.
After the eyeliner is finished, Cas spreads clear lip-gloss on Dean’s mouth. Capping the lid on it, he turns back to Kevin. “How do you feel about face-fucking and light bondage?”
-
The only sound in the room is Kevin’s rapid breathing and the shuffling clatter of Cas adjusting his equipment around them. Cas always adds weird, instrumental mood music to his videos, but he edits it in later, works it around the sex noises he wants to highlight. He’s got a serious artistic flair when it comes to the lighting and sound and what he wants his subjects to do. It’s weird and Dean doesn’t always get what Cas means by it. But it makes him the strangest kind of horny.
Dean’s little pillow mound had been toppled, kicked to the side, so the two of them can stand in the middle. Kevin barely comes up to Dean’s chin.
Dean puts a hand on his shoulder, stroking across the smooth fabric of Kevin’s robe.
“Just take it slow and easy,” Dean tells him.
Leaning down, he kisses Kevin on the lips and waits for Kevin to respond. The lipstick is sticky and it’s definitely going to smear everywhere, leave trails over Dean’s body, bright and gaudy. Kevin parts his lips but he takes a beat to push back.
Dean slips his other hand to Kevin’s waist, holds him in a loose circle, let’s him set the pace. Kevin’s stiff and tense, standing there like a board. Trailing a hand to the back of Kevin’s neck, Dean dips his fingers below the collar of the robe and brushes them across warm skin. Kevin shudders underneath him, lets out a high pitched whine and finally presses forward. Getting both hands on Dean’s hips and squeezing his shirt, Kevin pesses against him, practically fucks his tongue into Dean’s mouth all sudden greediness.
Cas moves quietly around them with his camera for the stills, and Dean’s attuned to where he is and what angle to put forward. At the same time, Cas loves working with people who are inexperienced, he says they’re more organic. Dean can go with the flow, but he also loves showing off.
“Kevin, take his shirt off.”
Every now and then, Cas’ll give directions. He generally has a visual in mind, but between the set points he wants to display, he leaves them to it.
Kevin pulls back, blinking, his lips already slightly faded from kissing. Dean wishes he could see a blush under all that paint. Kevin’s heavy breathing isn’t panicky, now, it’s deep. Letting go of the fistfuls of Dean’s shirt, Kevin nods, drags his hands up Dean’s sides, spreads his palms over Dean’s chest, exploratory.
Shrugging his shoulders as Kevin pulls at his outer layer of flannel, Dean lets it drop to the floor. Kevin tugs at his black undershirt, shoving it up. Dean makes it easy for him, reaches up and pulls it off. Kevin’s hands roam his chest, fingers tracing over the thick black lines of the leather harness, circling over the smooth metal buckles. It loops up behind Dean’s neck, crisscrosses over his chest, highlights muscles he used to have that are more pudge now, but it still makes the angles look good.
Dean brushes a messy lock off Kevin’s forehead, sweeps back through soft hair and scratches against his skull. He’s small and pretty and shy from this angle, right now, and Dean kind of wants to ruin him in the best ways.
Grabbing hold of Kevin’s waist, Dean spins him around, earning a surprised grunt, but when he pulls Kevin’s robe open and spreads his hands over a surprisingly well toned stomach, Kevin leans back against him and moans. Dean unties the sash, exposes Kevin. Scratching through the soft hair trailing down from his navel to coarser, thicker hair at the base of his cock, Dean brushes his knuckles against Kevin’s dick. Kevin twitches, starts rocking between Dean and his hand. Grinding a perky ass back against Dean’s erection.
Circling around them, Cas gets up close and personal for a few shots of Kevin’s face. Leaning over him, Dean pulls the robe off one shoulder and kisses along the curve up to Kevin’s neck, sucks lightly at his throat, noses under his ear. Kevin smells clean and just a little spice-sharp, and Dean is suddenly intensely curious if Kevin put on cologne or aftershave before this.
Sometimes, with someone new, he’ll chase laps around the thoughts in his head about them, what they’re like in their private life, how they take their coffee, what kind of pajamas they wear, if they ever cry during sex.
As Dean gets bolder, gripping against Kevin’s skin and dragging, squeezing handfuls of his hips and sliding one hand lower to cup his balls, Kevin starts to squirm in a way that’s more desperate than nervous. He grows bolder right back, putting one hand on Dean’s forearm and reaching the other up to find Dean’s face, slip around to the back of his neck, pull him closer.
They stand pressed together, rutting against each other, Dean sucking soft pink bruises across Kevin’s throat and shoulders while Kevin tries to drag Dean’s hand onto his dick.
“Kevin, put Dean on his knees,” Cas breaks in.
Kevin stutters for a moment before he finds his words, “Uh, do you, what do you mean?”
Dean manhandles him, turns him around face to face. “Put me on my knees, Kevin.”
He doesn’t drop down or make it easy, stands tall over Kevin and flicks a tongue out over his lower lip, draws it between his teeth, watching Kevin watch him.
Kevin looks him up and down. Dick twitching, robe still hanging on his shoulders, hair ruffled. Reaching up, Kevin hooks a finger into the large ring that sits dead center of Dean’s chest, then tugs sharply. Dean follows, drops to his knees and puts his hands on his thighs, looking up at Kevin. Almost shyly, Kevin ghosts his fingers against Dean’s cheek, curls them under his jaw. Sweeping a thumb up, Kevin passes it over Dean’s lips, and Dean opens his mouth, sways forward and sucks on Kevin’s finger.
“Oh…” Kevin makes a surprised soft noise, pushes his finger in deeper.
Dean plays with him, works him up, shows him just what Dean can do with his mouth, before pulling off and tipping forward to press his face to Kevin’s belly, kiss down to the base of his dick. Hands in Dean’s hair, hips pressing forward, Kevin moves even closer, balances one of his feet on Dean’s thigh.
Dean’s poor dick is still trapped in his jeans. He moves a hand to squeeze over it. Hears Cas tell him, “Take it out.”
Nodding, rubbing his forehead against the smooth, warm skin of Kevin’s stomach, Dean unbuttons his jeans and pulls his dick out. He did forego the boxers when Cas told him to wear his street clothes. Stroking himself, he kisses lower open mouthed with a hint of tongue and teeth. Kevin shivers under him, twists his hair tighter, pushing him down. Dean nips at the prominent ridge of hips bone, rubs his cheek against Kevin’s dick and drags his lips over it, teasing the head with his tongue.
Kevin’s put weight on Dean’s thigh, one foot on and one foot still on the floor, like he wants to crawl all over Dean, get as close as possible, and that drives Dean wild. Being wanted, being needed.
“Kevin, fuck his mouth.”
The hold in Dean’s hair loosens and Kevin pulls back slightly.
“I,” looking down at Dean, he asks, “I mean, are you sure?”
Nodding, Dean keeps kissing his dick without giving him what he wants, waiting for him to take it, “Yeah, come on.”
“Okay, I can do that, okay.”
Kevin hooks a finger in his mouth again, gently pulls down. Flicking his tongue over his lower lip, dick still in his fist, Dean looks up. Slowly, Kevin guides his dick inside, let’s go of himself and Dean’s face when he’s halfway in, pushes to the base and he just hits the back of Dean’s throat. His dick is fat, Dean’s jaw stretching around it, drool puddling under his tongue. Kevin thrusts experimentally, before putting a hand back on Dean, the side of his face, around the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair searching for the perfect spot to hold.
Moaning around his dick, Dean sucks, barely moving his head. He slides a hand up Kevin’s thigh, under the robe, spreads his fingers against Kevin’s hip and gives him a squeeze to tell him it’s good, to ask him for more.
Spit drips down his chin when Kevin starts to fuck his mouth in earnest, pulling his hips back slow and snapping in. Dean relaxes into it, closes his eyes. He lets awareness fall away consciously, of Cas and the cameras and the set.
Cas has tried to get Dean into yoga and meditation before, but his mind is always too busy to shut down. Except like this. On his knees. His only purpose to be a wet open mouth. Maybe it’s a different kind of meditation.
Kevin moves back, taking his dick with him and Dean tips forward.
“I, uh, I think I might…. I don’t know, when should I, you know?”
“Give yourself a moment to calm down,” Cas tells him, “Then we’ll move on. I want you to remove your robe and spread it on the floor, then tie the sash from it around Dean’s wrists, behind his back. Dean, take your jeans off before he does that.”
“Um, okay,” Kevin nods and pulls his sash loose.
Dean flops on his back, kicks out of his jeans and tosses them to the side. He asks Cas, “You want me on my knees or standing up?”
Cas considers for a moment, always moving around the room, adjusting things. “Kneeling.”
Dean moves to the side while Kevin lays the robe down, smoothing it out. A splash of color on the white blanket, pillows scattered around the edges. Kneeling down, ass to heels, Dean folds his arms behind his back, forearms lined up and hands clasping the opposing wrist. The leather chest harness is the only thing left on him.
“So, how do I do this?” Kevin asks.
Cas puts down the camera in his hand and comes into the middle space, “I’ll show you.”
Dean waits, anything but patient, dick jutting hard in front of him. It’s only Cas, and Kevin, behind him, the glide of silk over his skin, the sound of Cas’ deep voice giving instructions, but being the focus of their attention makes Dean’s dick drip.
“I want you to tie it by yourself while I record it, can you remember it?”
“Yeah, pretty sure I got it.”
“Good.”
Moving away again, Cas disappears into background focus while Kevin works with the sash, untying and retying it several times. He tests it, fingers wandering up Dean’s arms and across his shoulders, pressing harder as Dean hums his appreciation.
As Kevin moves back around to his front, Dean rolls his shoulders, squeezes his hands and feels the tension in the tie around his wrists. “C’mere,” he slurs, dick-drunk and happy and wanting more of Kevin’s hands on him, Kevin’s mouth, Kevin’s anything.
Kneeling, Kevin presses forward to kiss him, wraps an arm around his shoulders to hold him up. Dean is sloppy and loose, kissing back open mouthed, free with the greedy, eager sounds he huffs into Kevin’s mouth. Kevin tugs at the straps of his harness, roams over his chest and down his stomach, palms at his dick and Dean whimpers.
“Here,” Cas says, a lot closer than Dean was aware. He passes a condom and lube over to Kevin.
While Kevin is rolling a condom on, Dean shuffles around on his knees. “I already prepped myself, I’m good to go.”
“What if I want to… to touch you?”
Dean smiles, facing the wall. Kevin is a lot of things he expected, and a lot of things he didn’t. “Go for it.”
Cas holds Dean’s shoulder and lowers him to the floor, ever helpful. Head pressed to the silk robe spread under them, weight rested on his chest, ass up and thighs open, Dean wiggles his hips. It probably looks funnier than it does sexy, but he’s all riled up and the slow stuttering pace as Cas moves them through different positions drives him up the wall sometimes.
Hands settle on his ass, fingers spread, stroking up to the small of his back and down to the tops of his thighs. Kevin withdraws, coming back with slick fingers at Dean’s hole. Dean’s expecting a quick touch, but he gets teasing strokes, feels Kevin’s dick brush against a thigh, Kevin curling over him, the soft touch of lips against his hip, up his back, over his shoulders. Breath warm against his skin, Dean shivers.
Kevin is slow and steady, and Dean’s not so sure it’s nerves anymore as it is Kevin enjoying himself, drawing it out. Maybe he’s emboldened the needy moans he can pull out of Dean, maybe he wants to make Dean beg.
Dean can do begging.
“C’mon, Kev, fuck me, you want me to say please, I’ll say please.”
“Oh, wow.”
He’s already loose and open and wet from prepping himself in the bathroom. Kevin continues to slide his fingers inside, crooks down, even shifts his other hand between Dean’s legs to hold his balls. Dean rocks back onto it, toes curling into silk, arms tensing as he pulls at the bindings.
Shuffling closer, Kevin nudges his legs wider, holds a hand on his hip, pushes inside. He fucks in an unpracticed way, graceless and selfish as he takes his pleasure in Dean’s body, rough as he curls over Dean and fucks him into the floor.
Dean’s noisy and restless and he kind of wants Kevin’s hand on his dick but he kind of wants to come just from getting fucked. Flushed hot and aching in the pit of his stomach, Dean whines when Kevin stops abruptly, buried inside him.
“Oh….. oh, I didn’t mean to, I just climaxed, was I supposed to pull out, or something?”
Dean’s a mess, panting on the floor.
“What’s your refractory period like?” Cas asks.
“Uh… give me maybe five minutes?”
Dean huffs, dick painfully hard, “God, I wish I were still in my twenties.”
-
The clutter on the kitchen table - mail and bills, mostly - has been pushed to the side to make room for a plate of homemade muffins and carton of almond milk. Kevin’s put his robe back on, so Dean pulled on his jeans too, still wearing his harness. Scandalously, Cas has rolled his shirt sleeves up to the elbow.
Dean suspects that there are vegetables in these muffins, because Cas is always trying to sneak vegetables into his food, but they have chocolate chips in there too so they get a pass.
Kevin is a vegetarian. He and Cas are talking about the pros and cons of vegetarianism versus veganism. Cas is kind of an on-again, off-again meat eater. Dean has no idea what the difference between a vegan and a vegetarian is.
Talking around a mouthful of muffin, which earns him a glare from Cas, Dean asks, “Wait, so what’s the difference between the two?”
Kevin, already having demolished two muffins, tells him, “A vegetarian doesn’t eat anything that kills animal, like meat, but will still eat animal products like eggs and milk that you can get from animals without killing them, but vegans don’t touch any animal products, and I mean, there are cruel practices used in farming with chickens and dairy cows, but there’s a rising trend towards more ethical practices like cage free chickens, the question is how much oversight and regulation there is and if you can really trust what the labels say in the grocery store.”
Cas nods, sips his almond milk. “Although I admire vegans’ discipline,some do go a little overboard. Honey is a prime example of that.”
“Yeah, right?” Kevin nods, “I mean, apiarists take care of bees, they provide a safer and more stable environment than in the wild, which is good for bees and then they make too much honey, which people can harvest and it doesn’t harm them.”
“Sometimes the desire to do absolute good can be misguided,” Castiel states.
Dean loses focus on the conversation pretty quickly, and grabs another muffin to scarf down before they go back to work.
-
The robe has been spread over the floor again, the two of them kneeling facing each other in the middle. Kevin takes his time undoing all the buckles and pulling the straps apart on Dean’s harness. The skin is red and indented from tying it a little too tight, but it leaves him hypersensitive as Kevin traces his fingers over the lines, presses in and massages out the soreness. Dean sways on his knees, pliant to Kevin, arms loose at his side.
Moving closer, Cas guides them more specifically. Curls Dean’s body in on itself, spreads Kevin’s hands over the marks on his back, takes photographs of the indentations. Dean mostly holds still where Cas puts him, except for the hand that creeps into Kevin’s lap. Kevin jerks at the first touch, scratches blunt nails deeper against Dean’s skin and Cas makes a humming noise of approval.
It only takes a few strokes to get Kevin fully hard again, and the breathy little noises he makes has Dean’s dick perking back up.
“Just a few more photos,” Cas mumbles, pulling Dean’s arm up.
Dean bends his arm and rests his hand against his shoulder, knowing how Cas loves to photograph those weird muscles he has along his ribs, crossed with the marks from the harness, and lower down Kevin’s hand on his dick.
“Okay, Dean on your back this time.”
“Mm, gotta get my pretty face in the shot, huh Cas?”
Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean lays down on the robe, rubbing against it in pretense of getting situated, spreading his legs whorishly and loving how Kevin’s gaze is so focused on him it’s palpable.
Putting on another condom, Kevin scoots between Dean’s spread legs, pets over his thighs. Kevin’s makeup is wrecked, lipstick smudged and kissed off, streaks of his skin showing through where the white’s been swiped against, eyeliner dripping from sweat and the purple sheen rubbed away from one eye like he was wiping his face without thinking about it. It’s pretty fucking hot.
“Gotta, get my hips up in your lap…” Dean tells him, lifting his hips up, reaching a hand out to grip Kevin’s side and get him closer.
“Like that?”
Kevin holds both his hands at Dean’s hips, hefts him up as Dean wraps his legs around Kevin’s waist. Lower back off the floor, Dean nods and rubs himself against Kevin’s dick.
“Yeah, that’s perfect, c’mon.”
Sinking in, Kevin adjusts himself in small, twitchy movements, but once he’s ready to go he fucks into Dean with an even, steady rhythm. The urgency of before is gone. His arm muscles strain as he manipulates Dean’s body, his chest and stomach curling with small rolls that stretch out to lean muscle as he moves.
Leveraging himself with his legs, squeezing his thighs tight against Kevin, Dean falls into a rhythm with him. Stretching his arms down, he gets his hands on Kevin’s knees and leaves them there. Dick bouncing between their bellies, Dean’s pretty sure he doesn’t need a hand. With his face up, bright lights around them, Cas moving in the periphery of his vision, Kevin wide-eyed above him, Dean thinks about all the people that are going to see this, that are going to get off watching him getting fucked. It always makes him feel vulnerable. Parts of himself it took a long while to come to terms with laid out bare and offered up for someone else’s pleasure.
Flushing hot and trembling, Dean’s orgasm sweeps through him suddenly. Kevin fucks him through it, juddering Dean’s body and he comes hard enough to hit himself in the face with jizz. It spatters messily up Kevin’s chest too, and Dean’s dick is still dribbling in aftershocks as Kevin grinds his hips against Dean, shudders through another orgasm with an o-face that’s shocked and cute.
Kevin pulls out and lowers Dean’s hips to the floor, hands lingering on his thighs, eyes darting between Dean’s spent dick and his eyes.
“Are…. are we done?” Kevin asks.
“We could be,” Dean tells him, sitting up and leaning forward.
Kevin comes into the kiss easy, leaving his hands on Dean’s body as Dean shifts, folds his legs, pulls Kevin into his lap. Dean does him the courtesy of rolling the condom off, tying it and tossing it to the side.
Sighing as Dean wraps around him, Kevin murmurs, “This is good too, I like this.”
—
There’s a mostly gone meat lovers pizza on the coffee table and a veggie lovers that is completely untouched, and a bottle of tequila is chilling in the cooler next to the beer. Meg’s got her feet kicked up, and she’s dominated the Netflix movie selection so it’s all cheesy horror movies in the ‘to watch’.
They are going to get drunk as shit and probably end up making godawful porn together later. Or just fucking Cas stupid between the two of them.
If he’d show up.
God, the movie they’re watching - which makes no sense, it’s about some kind of sentient, bloodthirsty tire? - it’s so bad that Dean’s ready to get on his knees in front of the couch and eat Meg out. Cas wouldn’t mind if they started without him.
Dean doesn’t hear the back door open while something exploded on the screen, but when the movie quiets there are two voices in the kitchen. Dean mutes the tv.
“Hey!” Meg protests.
“Cas, you bring someone else over?” Dean shouts.
Cas comes in to the living room and squints at the two of them. “Oh, that’s right, Meg was coming over tonight.”
“I’d be offended, but who’s the fresh meat,” Meg purrs.
Kevin waves from behind Cas’ shoulder. “Hi! I’m Kevin, I play cello in the music program at the university.”
“How cute.”
“Ah, that’s why you asked for a veggie lovers.” Dean scoots to the corner of the couch to make room, and Kevin ends up sandwiched between him and Meg.
SUMMARY: You’ve been dreaming of having a personal encounter with the God of Mischief. Lucky for you, your boyfriend Tom Hiddleston is more than happy to indulge you. And he takes ALL his roles seriously.
RATING:M (18+ ONLY)
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This fic contains sexual roleplay, light bondage, and explicit sexual content, and should only be read by people age 18 and over. I hope you like this, because I had a lot of fun with it! Feedback, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated!
You checked out the swing of Tom’s hips and butt as he danced along to the music playing on the radio while he made his coffee. He turned around, smiling with his lip between his teeth, and swayed his hips a few more times for good measure while stirring the coffee with a spoon. You gestured for him to join you on the couch and he turned the music down. With an exaggerated sigh he sat down next to you and threw his long legs up on the couch, leaning his back against your chest. His head came up to your collarbone, his curly hair tickling your chin. The first sip of his coffee made him groan appreciatively and settle more comfortably into your lap. You massaged his scalp, enjoying the feeling of his silky curls between your fingers.
Prompt: Character A is in the trunk of a car. Character B drives through the night.
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Oral - Male and Female receiving, Vaginal Penetration, Light Bondage
Word Count: 3055
Summary: Distractions lead to sex
Dean slammed the door of the motel room behind him. He looked at his younger, but taller brother and his nose wrinkled up. “Dude, why do you smell like you bathed in a 3-day-old dead skunk you found on the side of the road?”
“Fell into a puddle of something and I don’t want to know what it was.” Sam lifted his arm and sniffed his pit. “I thought I got all the smell off though.” The boys had separated to deal with two cases at once; a vampire and a shapeshifter. They had planned to meet back up in this hotel afterwards. “Seriously, why do shifters have to love sewers?”
“The 3 D’s. Dark, damp and…” Dean paused, thinking, “away from dumbasses.”
“That’s not really 3…” Sam stopped himself. “You know what? Never mind.” He shook his head. “The important thing is that I got him; silver bullet to the heart. How did it go with the vamp?”
“Do you want the bad news or the worse news?”
“Dean, what happened?”
“The bitch got away, but not before forcing her blood down my throat.”
“What the hell? What didn’t you say something sooner? We have to track her down and get potion ingredients.” Sam started throwing his things haphazardly into his duffel bag.
“She was headed this way so I thought I’d stop and grab you.” Dean reached for the door handle, but was stopped by Sam’s hand on his shoulder.
“You should stay here. I’ll get everything and bring it back.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“This is the second time you’ve been turned. We don’t know if it will be harder for you to keep control. If you lose it, we may not be able to get the vamp’s blood. You need to stay away from people for now.” Dean knew Sam wouldn’t give in on this so he sighed and agreed to stay behind.
Dean threw the keys to his brother and a minute later, he heard Baby roar to life and drive away. He laid himself on the bed after turning off the bedside table lamp.
You stopped in front of the door that you saw Dean Winchester go into. You couldn’t believe he was back in town. The last time he and his brother were here, they saved you and several others from a vetala and its mate. Did him being here mean there was trouble again? You hadn’t been able to get Dean off your mind since he left.
He had such a strong presence and he left before you could get to know more about him. He had piqued your interest like no one had ever done before. The mystery of him and his line of work had left you so curious that you started researching other supernatural creatures. You wanted to join him; become a hunter too.
You knocked on the door and in just moments it opened a crack. “Dean, it’s me.” This was what you had been waiting 4 months for. You would finally get to see his gruff face and stocky build.
“It’s you. Why are you here?” He opened the door fully and you could see him. He looked rougher and more tired than you remembered him.
“I want you to teach me to be a hunter.” You stepped past him into the room.
“You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not a child. I can handle myself” You had your back to him, but you could hear him get closer to you.
“It’s not you I’m worried about.” You started to turn around to ask what he meant, but you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head and the world went black.
You woke and wondered for a moment if the impact to your head had blinded you. You blinked and your eyes semi-adjusted to the darkness surrounding you. You were laying on your side with your knees bent. When you tried to straighten your legs, you felt them hit a wall.
Your breath became shallow and your heartbeat quickened. There was a bump and your body lifted a couple of inches off the floor which was enough for your head to hit the roof above you. Something made a heavy thunk noise behind you. You reached over your body and felt around until your fingers gripped the object. You brought it to your face and could just barely make out what it was; a tire iron.
‘No. This can’t be happening.’ Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. A headache began to form as the panic set in. You were in the trunk of a car. You were frantic as you felt around the trunk lid above you. ‘It has to be here somewhere. They install an emergency release for situations like this.’
You searched the whole roof only to find nothing. ‘This must be an older model car.’ A tightness rose in your chest as your breaths came in quicker and shallower. If you didn’t do something soon you would pass out from hyperventilation. You grabbed the tire iron again. ‘If I can smash the tail light and wave my hand through it, maybe someone driving behind us will see it and help me.’
You tried not to think about how little space you had as you pulled back the tool and slammed it into the back of the light unit. It shattered and fragments of plastic were sprayed in multiple directions; your hands blocking their path towards your face as you felt the rough pieces scratch at your skin.
You dropped the iron and peered out the hole. All you could see was darkness. It didn’t seem that anyone was driving behind you. No one would see your hand even if you did try to wave. You were at the mercy of the driver at this point and as the realization hit, you started gasping for air and your vision closed in until you passed out.
Dean gripped the steering wheel tight as he drove down the 2-lane highway. There were no other vehicles around and he felt his foot press harder on the gas pedal. Now that he was separated from that woman, he tried to think about what to do next. A small part of his brain told him to turn around and let her out of the trunk, but the other, much larger, part kept him driving in search of an off-the-road hideaway.
He knew of a cabin not too far from where he was. It was one that Bobby had been setting up for hunters to use, but had never finished. Dean was sure he could make it before sunrise, though he knew it would be a close call.
His mind kept wandering back to the woman he knocked out. He needed to think about something else, otherwise he was likely to pull over and kill her now. He reached over and turned on the radio of the unfamiliar car. He scrunched up his face in disgust when pop music began playing from the speakers.
Turning the dial to change the station did nothing and his frustration quickly turned to anger when the knob popped off. He threw it to the floorboard and punched the radio to turn it off. His new aggravation only served to cement in his mind that he wanted to do this.
Dean turned off the highway just as the sky started to lighten. The car’s suspension bounced as he steered onto the uneven dirt path. This cabin was in the perfect location. You wouldn’t come across it unless you were specifically looking for it. He slowed the car to a stop, hopped out and walked to the rear.
When he opened the trunk, the woman shielded her eyes from the growing light with her arm. He reached in and picked her up with ease. She struggled against him, but that only caused him to grip her body tighter. He kicked the door open and walked in, closing the door behind him with another swift kick.
Dean threw the woman onto the couch and watched as she cowered away from him. He stopped moving and observed her body language. What was he doing here? Why did he let himself kidnap this woman? She obviously didn’t want to be here.
His senses were filled with her blood; the scent of it overpowering his nose and the sound of it pulsing in her veins. The rhythmic sloshing and the pounding of her heartbeat deafening over the sounds of his own thoughts. He took a deep breath and tried to slow his rising bloodlust.
When he felt semi-calmer, he took a moment to really examine her. She was attractive; just not in the ways he would normally notice about women. There was a radiance to her like she was bathed in sunlight, but from within. He couldn’t really put his finger on any physical aspect. It was almost like he was seeing her soul and not her body.
As he continued to appreciate her, he felt a tightening in his jeans. The more he hardened, the less he felt bothered by her blood. He didn’t really want to drink from her and fully become a vampire, but his thoughts slipped back. The bloodlust may have lessened, but it was still enough to drive him forward. His body was beginning to rage war between the two needs. If he couldn’t satiate one hunger, he’d have to settle for the other. “I need a distraction.”
You looked around the room trying to find something, anything, that could keep him busy. “You need to distract me.” Was he suggesting what you thought he was? You looked back to him and your eyes were drawn to his mouth. He had grown a set of fangs over his normal teeth. You hadn’t gotten very far in your solo research of monsters, but you instantly recognized this as a sign of vampirism.
Your already racing heart sped up and you worried that you might pass out again. You needed to calm yourself, even a little. You needed to think straight. This was Dean; he had to still be in there somewhere. You thought back to when you had met him before. He had been gruff, but you could see the kindness in his smile. That smile had almost brought you to your knees. It was what kept you thinking about him long after he was gone.
Now he stood before you suggesting something you wanted from him, but you knew the only reason he wanted your body, was to keep his mind off your blood. Was that a good enough reason for you? Did you really want him so bad that you didn’t care why he wanted you?
You stood up and walked towards him cautiously, trying your best not to make any sudden movements. When you reached him, you tilted your head up and kissed him gently on the lips. He froze; his body tense as though trying to restrain himself.
You pressed your body into his and let your hands graze his cheeks on their way to the back of his head. As you slowly increased the pressure of the kiss, his body softened and his rough hands ran up your arms. Your body reacted to his touch. You pulled him closer and deepened your kiss with a light nibble.
Without warning, he gripped your arms so tightly you thought his nails might break the skin. This time it was your body that froze. You looked up nervously to his eyes and saw a violence in them that scared you. He let go of your arms only to push your shoulders down until you were on the floor; kneeling before him. He unzipped his jeans with one hand and forced you to his newly freed erection with the other on the back of your head.
You opened your mouth just in time to have it shoved in roughly. You felt him hit the back of your throat and you let your tongue run along the length as he backed out. Just before he pulled out completely, he rammed in again. He grunted with each thrust and held your head tighter in place.
After several more jabs at your throat, you started to gag, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. You pushed against his hips trying to catch your breath. You thought for sure, he planned on coming in your mouth, but he stopped before that. He pulled out and shoved you onto your back.
He ripped off your pants hungrily and worked his way up your legs nibbling and biting your flesh, though never hard enough to make you bleed. He was slow and methodical as he came closer to your nethers.
You felt a warmth bubbling under your skin and a desire that you’d never felt before. You were no stranger to lust, but this was something beyond. You couldn’t find the right words to describe what your body was screaming. It was more than wanting; more than need.
Your thoughts were interrupted when he slipped a finger into your wetness. He began to move it inside you and it wasn’t long before he added another causing your back to arch. He gave you a smirk and then bit on your sensitive nub. You gasped at the spike of pleasure that action caused.
Your mind became a jumbled mess as he continued to tease you. You grasped at threads of thought and all that came were images of what this man could do to you. If his fingers and mouth brought this reaction, what would happen when he took it further. You bucked your hips when he bit you again and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you reached your climax, but before you could reach euphoria, he stopped his movement and pulled out.
You gave him an audible moan of frustration as he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it to the floor. He grabbed the hem of your blouse and pulled it up over your head, but instead of casting it to the side, he used it to tie your wrists together over your head. With his chest in your face, you decided it was the perfect opportunity to take revenge for his teasing.
You lifted your head up off the floor and nipped at his neck. He growled as he pushed you back down and positioned himself between your legs. With one swift motion, he shoved into you, forcing a scream to escape your lips. He pulled back and slammed into you again and again. The pain slowly became pleasure as he continued and you moaned at the warmth growing inside you again.
Your eyes closed as your body lifted to meet his with each thrust. You felt the heat of his breath against your collarbone and then sudden teeth against your skin. The pain quickly subsided into desire. You wanted more of him. You wanted everything he could offer. He bit down again, this time taking your nipple and causing a sharp intake of breath. He lessened the pressure, but kept hold of your nipple. He pulled and rubbed it between his teeth sending shivers down your body.
Between his constant rhythm between your legs and his teasing up top, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer before climaxing. You felt yourself begin to tense, but before you could achieve it, he stopped again. You groaned as he pulled out and stood up. He leaned down, grabbed you by your still-bound wrists and brought you to your feet. He dragged you to the kitchen table and bent you, face first, over the table. Your face was pressed against the table and as he held you down, you heard the shuffling of his pants falling to the floor.
He found his place between your legs again and took up his pace once more. If he kept this up, you would surely pass out from exhaustion. Your body couldn’t handle being brought to the brink just to have it ripped from you again. He leaned over your back and took hold of your breasts. You could hear his breath heavy and ragged as he squeezed roughly. He bit every inch of skin he could reach and you shivered involuntarily as you finally reached your peak.
Your body slumped lifelessly, but he wasn’t done with you yet. He kept up his pace even speeding up and pumping harder. His hands became rougher with your chest; pinching and pulling your nipples. His bites on your back were growing harder and more frequent. He let out a loud growl and his nails dug into your tender breasts. You felt the sharp sting of his teeth sinking into your shoulder blade as he thrust in one final time with his climax.
Dean licked the wound on the woman’s back. The taste of her blood was like the first sip of water after extreme dehydration. He wanted more and he almost gave in, but he jumped back away from her before he could. He knew he wouldn’t stop until she was drained.
His thoughts fought him as he tore through the kitchen drawers. He knew Bobby would have stashed at least one weapon that would work for this situation. He found a blade that would do the job. He sliced the shirt binding her hands together and watched as she stood up rubbing her wrists. He shoved the handle into her hands and backed away. She looked confused.
“You want to be a hunter? Here’s your first case. Make sure my head comes clean off.”
“Dean, I’m not going to kill you.” She looked to the blade and back to him.
“I drank your blood. There’s no saving me now. You have to do it before I hurt you again.”
She slowly walked to him and he closed his eyes waiting for the blow. He felt a sharp pain of the knife slicing his chest. He opened his eyes and saw a blur come at him. He felt something wet where the wound was, but he couldn’t stop her in time. She backed up and smiled up at him; blood on her lips.
Paring: Tenth Doctor x Rose Tyler Chapter: 2/2 Rating: Explicit Word count: 2700 Tags: Temporary Disabalities, Borderline PWP, Fluff, Light Bondage, Very NSFW
Second and last part of this story, for the @doctorroseprompts Hurt/Comfort!
Mind the tags, it really is NSFW!
Without a warning, he shuffled away and broke every kind of contact with her body. He remembered she had mentioned that fantasy she had, once. Not really a fantasy, merely a modest adventure she wanted to try and that they’d never embarked on - not for lack of opportunity, rather for lack of sufficient restraint on both their part. They just never resisted each other long enough to think about engaging into even a modicum of something different from either angry shagging against a wall. And when they took it slower, when they made love in front of the fireplace in the library or in their bed, they just never resisted the temptation to stare into each other’s eyes so they could share the words their moans forbade them to speak. But now. Now, he could.
Rose tensed when she heard him move away from the bed, then heard light ruffle of clothes, then felt the mattress dip slightly on her left side. She knew where he wanted to go with this, and while part of her was still a bit miffed at his carelessness, she couldn’t help the thrilled shiver that ran down her spine. She was almost tempted to reach out for him, to touch him, to fill the gap her blindness had carved in the wall of her perceptions, but then the tip of his tongue dragged along the shell of her ear and she gave up on the idea. He sucked her lobe in his mouth, and he was gone again.
The only thing she could do was to guess where he would touch her next. She had never felt so much erotic tension before. His finger drew a line on the patch of skin showing between the hem of her tee-shirt and her belt, and he was gone again. He pressed a kiss in the crook of her elbow, and he was gone again. He bit her lip, and he was gone again. He didn’t reappear for a full minute. The silence was only broken by her heavy breath, and his - he probably didn’t realize how hard he was breathing, almot ragged already, almost too deep and too loud. A minute was all it took for her body to steadily tense, muscles pulled taut, teeth grinding, gooseflesh spreading like wildfire over her skin everywhere she thought his hands were hovering. Everywhere and nowhere at the same time.
More sounds, more movements she could imagine happening around her without really knowing what he was doing. And suddenly, his large hand picked up both her wrists, pulled them up above her head, and the cold silk of his was tied around them, locking them around the headboard. He kissed both her palms, caressed her forearms, and he was gone again. Not for long. Just long enough for her heartbeat to turn erratic and a fire to burn its way down her loins. She had never been more powerless than in that moment. She couldn’t see, couldn’t touch. She could speak, but he wouldn’t hear. She couldn’t hear, but he wouldn’t speak. He could read her lips, but he could just as well pretend he wasn’t and she’d have no way of knowing. It was oddly… Satisfying. To let him possess to the last shred of control. To let him decide what to do. Liberating, in a way.
His spikes of hair tickled the underside of her jaw, and a groan was ripped from her throat when his mouth wrapped around her nipple over the layers of clothes. Not a direct contact, but enough to feel the moist heat of his tongue, enough for pleasure to spark and shoot down to fuel the heat of her arousal. When the fabric grew damp, he switched to the other, his thumb replacing his mouth to keep its attention awake. Her chest rose from the bed to seek more contact, a sigh of pleasure breaking free, but he wasn’t pleased by her eagerness. He bit her soft flesh in reprisal, and he was gone again. Really gone, the mattress taking back its original shape, his weight vanished, his heat replaced by a wisp of cold air. She still heard him, walk about the room, another quiet ruffle of clothes, a low rumble followed by a sharp metallic click. She wasn’t sure she liked this sound.
Soon, maybe too soon, she sensed him straddling her hips, and if she wasn’t mistaking what she was feeling against her skin above the line of her jeans, the ruffle she had heard was the one of his boxers falling to the carpet. Her hands unconsciously pulled on their bind, the desire to touch, to make sure with her own fingers, to feel, turning into a consuming need. If there was one sound he was still capable of, it was tutting. And he did. Just before he slipped a hand under her tee-shirt, splayed fingers on her stomach, and the awkward clicking sound reached her ears again. The fabric was pulled high, a swish of breeze rolling up her skin to the underside of her breast, and the same sound was heard. Scissors. Cutting through her tee-shirt, the back of his hand resting protectively under the blades should she be tempted to push her chest up. But now she knew. She nestled deeper into the cover and remained perfectly still, hoping he would get the message. He did. His hand disappeared and she could almost see his lips drawing into a grin. Her abdomen rippled slightly, the cold blade finally meeting her skin, and she had been right. She loved it. The cold against the hot, the hard against the soft, the not-quite danger against the weak, the sharp sound against the silence. The mere minute it took for the garment to curtain out on her sides, the sleeves having suffered the same fate, and expose the bra still covering her breast managed to fan her arousal better than a whole ten minutes of their usual foreplay. And then, with three meticulous snap of his scissors, he cut the two straps and the middle of the lacy piece. She felt like a flower whose petals were slowly picked off.
He raked his nails over her sternum, down, down, swiping off the tatters of the bra that joined the remnants of her tee-shirt. Her breath hitched in her throat when he bent forward to capture a nipple between his teeth again, caught the other between his knuckles, and teased them with his tongue, his lips, his breath, until they stood almost painfully erect atop her mouds of pale flesh. By the time he decided that was enough, she was almost ashamed by the wetness that had gathered in her knickers. Thankfully, he silently agreed to remedy the situation.
She released a breath, heavy, shaky, his hands drawing snakes down her stomach until they reached the buckle of her belt and deftly undid it. The two buttons followed, then the fly, and he shuffled down her legs all while pulling at the garment, along with her knickers. She heard the way he clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, heard the deep inhale he took and almost heard his tongue run over his lips.
“Oh, God, fuck.”
She knew it was useless, but given how he suddenly wrapped his hands behind her knees and pushed them up, spread them out, she couldn’t help that curse. She didn’t think he had ever exposed her like that. She didn’t mind, if the throb between her legs and the renewed wetness she felt trickling down her opening were any clues. No, what she minded was the complete lack of stimulation. He did nothing, for a long moment. Almost too long. She grew too impatient, her nerves turning to scorching ashes, and she rolled her hips. She cursed again, loud and desperate, when what she believed to be the tip of his cock slid between her folds and bumped against her clit - and God, if it was, it seemed he was enjoying the ride, too. She felt his weight shift - he probably shuffled back on his knees so she wouldn’t try to seek for contact again - and she could only wait. His breath caressed her skin, first, somewhere on the inside of her left thigh. She felt the same on her right. Then a poke of his tongue on the left again, that he repeated on the right. Then his tongue ran along the dip between her folds and the juncture of her leg, and it did the same to the right. She knew he could tease, and she usually loved it, but the sensations were so much more powerful and consuming in that moment that she was starting to hate it. Her breath probably betrayed her, or the quiver of her muscles, or maybe the almost pained frown on her features. He finally licked his way up from her opening to her clit, and that about did it. About. Oh, it didn’t take much more, because he knew her by heart. He knew what she wanted, and he knew what she needed. He plunged his index deep into her, and sucked her clit into his mouth, hard, the taut tip of his tongue circling the bud over the bud, once, his fingertip pressing against the rougher patch of her heat, twice. Her arousal peaked and the headboard cracked in protest, her hands pulling on the tie to anchor her body, arching away from the bed, only supported by her feet and her her shoulders.
He didn’t hear her shout his name, but he felt her inner muscles squeeze his finger in, saw her body thrash, tasted the juices that flowed from her when he withdrew his finger. He loved it, to see her surrender to him, bound to their bed, at his mercy. He loved it even more to know she trusted him enough to indulge in that kind of fantasy that had left him indifferent at first, but that he was seriously starting to consider doing again, very soon, very often. His cock twitched hard at the sight of her flushed body, the heavy rise and fall of her chest, her white knuckles firmly grasping his favourite tie. She was beautiful. He was disappointed he couldn’t voice his affection and his love, but he believed she knew anyway. So, he shifted up her body, up to her chest, careful not to crush her with his weight, and he slipped two of his fingers into her mouth after giving it a full kiss. He let her twirl her tongue around them for a moment, enjoying the rumble of her moan that echoed in his bones. And then, he used those fingers to draw a question mark on her warm and reddened sternum. He hoped she would understand. She nodded forcefully. She did.
In a sudden surge of possessive behaviour, strength heightened by his arousal, he pulled on the knot of the tie to help her higher up against the headboard. His lungs constricted painfully in his chest and his hand squeezed his leaking cock, once, twice, dragged its tip up her chin, and he filled her awaiting mouth with a quick thrust. He didn’t even want to imagine what kind of sound he would have made if he could use his voice. His fingers tangled into her hair, his thumb pressed against her temples, palms cinching her cheeks to push her jaw down as low as he could - though he made sure to watch for any sign of pain or too extreme discomfort, he refused to hurt her. Her tongue worked fast against his underside, her lips thick around his cock, her mouth hot and wet and tight. She suddenly moaned around him, loud, or so the rippling echoes that pulsed down to his balls had him think. A single moan, that sliced a dent in the already tight coil of his arousal snaking in his loins. It felt too good. He wouldn’t last. He thrust hard into her mouth, once more, twice more, and he hurried to slip his cock out of her mouth before what thin thread of his control was left would break. He fumbled around to find the pair of scissors he had discarded to the side, feverish hands cutting through the silk of his tie above the knot until she was set half-free.
He flipped her around, rolled an arm around her waist to huddle her up to her knees, and slammed his hips against her rear to bury himself to the hilt in her wet heat. His fingers found her clit to rub it in tight circles, the chopped rhythm and the despair of his thrusts making it quite clear he wouldn’t last much longer. She fell on her arms, curved her back, squeezed her muscles around him. He threw his head back, biting his lower lip hard in the vain hope to keep his orgasm at bay just a while longer, just long enough so she would come before him, but it was no use. He didn’t want to fight it, not when this was bound to be the best orgasm he had ever experienced. So he let it sweep him away. His hips jerked against her bum and his fingers scratched through the coarse hair at the apex of her sex, his breath coming out in choked puffs as his cock throbbed and pulsed its long and powerful release in her dripping wetness. It lasted, seconds, how many he didn’t know because he hadn’t enough brain left to count, but he knew it lasted.
He wanted nothing more than to let himself fall over her and try to survive the intensity of his release, but she hadn’t come. He needed her to come. He found the strength to withdraw his softening cock from her and replaced it with two fingers he hurried to pump, fast and hard, in and out, his quivering thumb brushing random pattern against her clit. Thankfully, she was close, and it didn’t take long before the small of her back arched up, before she pressed back against his fingers and came around them, and he had to sigh in relief at the feel of her own release.
He snatched the tatters of the tee-shirt before she could fall down on them, pressed a kiss to the swell of her bum, made a quick job of wiping the heavy combination of fluids dripping on the inside of her thighs. With his shaking hands, he managed fetch the scissors and cut through the knot of the tie to free her of her bindings.
He winced at the sight of the bruises spreading from her wrists to the base of her thumbs - nothing he couldn’t fix later, but still, he was scared he might have gone too hard on her. He apologized with a trail of soft kisses he sowed over each dark colour spreading over pale skin, fleeting caresses all over her body, butterfly kisses peppered on her face. He wanted nothing more than to have his voice back and tell her he was sorry. Nothing more than tell her how much he loved her.
Her blind eyes looked at him as she snuggled to his side, and a smile tugged on her lips. She cupped his face again, a gentle hold, and articulated a few words again.
“I know. I’m fine. I love you, too.”
He smiled, too, even though she couldn’t see him yet. He cupped her left breast in his palm, and pressed his lips hard against the back of his hand. He hoped she could feel it. He knew she did, when she mirrored his actions over his right heart.
“Slip it off,” she mouthed, just before she kissed his lips again and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
He toed the plaid at the foot of the bed and caught it to throw it over they bodies, entwined in a warm and comfortable embrace. He would sleep it off. And when they both woke up, he would make sure to apologize. Twice again.
